Tugs of War
by mebeemmy
Summary: "Dear Fang—I used to think that you knew me so well. But now, a month after you've left, I realized that you really don't". Fang is gone. Max is heartbroken. And the apocalypse is coming.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N): 'Eh guys. It's me again. I know, it's a surprise. I wasn't planning on making this story, but…it came to me. And I just had to do it. (: **_**Please remember to always read my A/N's, because they're always pretty important. **_

**I decided to do what I'm apparently fairly good at: writing my interpretation of Maximum Ride books. **

**This one will be my best story yet. I promise it'll be 47693076923052 times better than The Sky Is Falling. Promise. **

**I know you're probably all tired of seeing versions of ANGEL on the list of stories, and I'm **_**not**_** saying mine will be the best ('cause it totally won't be), but I **_**am**_** saying that you won't be disappointed. **

**Though there probably will be parts in this story where you'll hate me. (Can we all say 'foreshadowing'? (: ) **

**Also, ****keep in mind that _this story is not linked to my other fanfictions whatsoever._**** Forget they even happened. This is what you're paying attention to. Not the insanity that happened in Mind Over Matter, or the pathetic stuff I called a story in The Sky Is Falling, because we all know it was pretty much crap. But hey, it was my first one. It's supposed to be. ;)**

**So, enjoy! And remember. ****Reviews are epic****. **

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__Dear Fang—_

_I used to think you knew me so well. But now, a month after you've left, I realized that I don't think you really do. _

_Because you thought leaving would change things—you thought leaving would make things better. You thought leaving would make __me__ better. Yet I'm the worst I've ever been about anything. Which is saying something. _

_You also thought I could forgive you for doing this to me. And so now we have to face the fact that you didn't know me as well as we all thought you did. _

_You did this to all of us—and it's worse now, because some days I can't even drag myself out of my room without bursting out crying at one point in the day from the smallest thing that reminds me of you. You said this would help the flock—it hasn't. I cannot tell you that enough._

_I'm no leader anymore. I'm no warrior. I'm no comforting 'mother'. _

_The good news: I will __never__ ask you to come back, because I __**never**__ want to see you again. So you won't have to worry about me asking, and then you having to come back because you "can't say no" to me, and then leaving again. _

_Twenty years won't change that feeling. I know it won't. I won't let it. And I'm nothing if not stubborn. _

_The thing is, Fang, I love you too. And that hurts me so much. Because I don't think I should. No matter how hard I try to not love you, I do. It's the one thing in life I've never been able to defeat. _

_Not to mention, I now have to deal with Angel by myself—who's getting worse, by the way. She does things now just to make me cry or yell or end up back in my room so that this whole cycle can start again. _

_I don't know what kind of joke you attempted to make when you left your __shit__ on the computer, but it hurt. Just when the pain had subsided to absolute, satisfying __rage__, I saw your file. And the wounds opened up again. And had freaking __salt__ added to them. _

_How can you know me so well, and yet not know me at the same time? _

_How can you be somewhere else, doing something that you __think__ is going to help, when I'm practically brain dead and couldn't go anywhere else if I wanted to? _

_How can you be so __Fang__? _

And now I was crying again.

Crumpling up the paper, I threw it in the general direction of the wastebasket and covered my face in my hands.

It felt good, and bad, to write that letter. I did it every day. I never expected to send it. I just had nothing else to do. I had no one else to confide in except for a piece of paper. I spent most of my days in my room, no longer caring about taking care of the kids. They didn't even respect me as a leader anymore.

Because the only person I had ever confided to before was the person that was the reason I even needed to confide in anyone.

Life sucks.

Suddenly, I heard Nudge scream from downstairs.

Aw, crap.

I took the stairs three at a time, and ran into the kitchen…

Which looked like a huge, pink, strawberry tornado had touched down.

Sticky pink stuff was everywhere, dripping off the counter, dripping off the _ceiling_, and finally, dripping off Nudge, Iggy, and Gazzy.

"What. Happened?" I demanded.

"Iggy was trying to make smoothies…" Gazzy started sheepishly.

"But they forgot to put the _lid _on the blender!" Nudge shrieked, angry and hysterical. "And I just walked in, minding my own business, and then they were like, 'Nudge, want a smoothie?' and before I could even say anything they turned it on and it went everywhere and I am totally innocent no matter what they—"

Interrupting is the only way to get Nudge to stop talking, so that's what I did. "Nudge. It's fine." I sighed. "Just…clean it up."

Usually, if someone told me a blind guy (Iggy) had forgotten to put the lid on the blender, I would have said, "why the hell are you letting him near any cooking appliances?" But Iggy's different. Despite his blindness, he's the best cook (like, ever) and he can find his way around like the best of us. Plus, he can _feel _colors. And see when everything's completely white. Needless to say, he's not any more handicapped than I am. But since I'm wallowing in self-pity and can't get through one day without crying hysterically, maybe I'm not the best comparison.

"Look who finally crawled out of their room," A voice behind me said.

I closed my eyes, clenched my fists, and turned to Angel.

She smiled at me characteristically, but I had learned to see through that smile. "Jeb called. He said he's dropping Dylan off tonight."

My heart fluttered a little, but I couldn't and wouldn't identify why.

I thought we'd be done with him after he stabbed himself with that needle.

Then reality set in, as it always does.

"Tonight?" I asked.

Angel rolled her eyes and looked at me like I was mentally challenged. "That's what I said."

The doorbell rang.

I attempted to beat Angel to the door without making it look like I was trying to beat her to it.

I swung it open before I remembered who I was opening it for, which ruined my moment of accomplishment.

"Jeb. Dylan." My greeting was far from warm. Sure, Jeb had taken a bullet for me, but I was still iffy about the man. He did ditch us to go work again for the scientists that grafted avian DNA into my flock and me.

Dylan smiled at me, causing my heart to beat erratically again, no matter how much I tried to stop it. I didn't feel that way for him. I just…was not used to having human contact, seeing as I'd been holed up in my room for a while. Yeah, that was it.

"Come in," I said reluctantly.

"Well, I just came to drop off Dylan. But…could I speak to you for a moment, Max?"

Normally, my response would be, 'No. Now go get hit by a bus/die in a hole/get eaten alive by maggots'. But like I said, since the man jumped in front of a bullet for us, I'm trying to be a little more patient and forgiving with the guy.

But just a little.

So, anyway, I nodded reluctantly and stepped out onto the porch with him.

"Max, I know you're upset about Fang, but please just give Dylan a chance. All he talks about is you. And you and I both know that he's your perfect match."

I glowered at him, despite the feeling that came with someone saying Fang's name. Keeping tears at bay, I snapped, "Is that all?"

"Well…no. I also was told to bring you these."

And Jeb pulled out that jar with the human eyeballs in it.

The one meant for Iggy.

The one that I had wanted so badly to give him, but just couldn't do it.

The one that was very obviously an intended bribe.

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**(A/N 2): You know me. I always start with a big bang. But this is far from where the action starts. If you want to (read: please do), then review and tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yes, I'm back. At least I hope. I'm working on about three stories at a time now (This one, Frostbite, and then another one I may put on Fiction press later). Updates for this may be a bit slow, since I'm not quite totally over the writer's block problem I had before, and because I got a part in the school play and I have freaking rehearsal's every freakin' day after school :/ **

**I want to thank you guys for your support and ideas for the story. **

***To the people who were confused, Fictionpress is like Fanfiction, except you write your own **_**original**_** stories, not based on any other books.***

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**Chapter Two**

I grabbed the jar from Jeb's hands, tapped the glass. Narrowed my eyes. "What's the catch?"

Jeb remained expressionless. "Dr. Hans said you already knew the condition."

I shook my head. "Well you can tell that _bastard_—,"

"Max?"

Oh, God, no.

I froze. "Uh—Ig," I managed to stutter. "Stay inside."

A pause. "You can't tell me what to do, Max."

Jeb turned to me at this, his eyebrows raised.

I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing.

Once upon a time I could. Once upon a time it was my job. And once upon a time they respected that—they respected _me_.

Now I had gotten demoted by a seven-year-old with a name that completely contradicted her character.

I felt the crack in my heart get bigger.

Iggy stepped onto the porch, and Jeb grabbed the jar back. I glared at him.

Jeb extended Iggy's hand and laid the jar in it.

"What's this?" Iggy asked grimly, knowing the answer full well.

I bit my lip. "The eyes, Ig." I breathed, not even daring to whisper.

Iggy, too, narrowed his eyes. "The catch?"

"Max simply needs to help out Dr. Hans with something."

Iggy turned to me, hope on his face. "And?"

I shook my head. "Ig…"

Ig looked more than crestfallen. He looked devastated. "…And you're too selfish to do one thing to help someone else."

Immediately, tears sprung to my eyes—I seemed to be getting more sensitive lately. "No, Iggy. Because, sure, you'll get to see, but the price is too high."

"Too high for _you_. You'd rather sit and write letters to Fang than make one tiny sacrifice for me to be able to see again."

My breath hitched. My chest tightened. My eyes throbbed with tears that I was surprised my body could even manufacture.

What happened to the old me, who would punch Iggy out for even saying that? The old me who wouldn't even need to because she would have been firm enough in the first place that he'd have _never_ pushed that far?

I couldn't let my pride go. It was the only thing I had left. And I wasn't about to let the last thing I had slip away.

In order for me to regain leader, in order for me to regain _everything_, I had to put up a fight. I had to prove myself. I had to show them that I was still Maximum Ride.

"Listen here," I started, trying to put on my old firm, cold tone. The one that used to scare my flock into listening to me. "_You're_ the one being selfish. Hans wants more than just my 'help'. But you're too ignorant to notice that. I have to make decisions that will benefit everyone, not just one person. You'll get your sight back, but then we'll all suffer. And don't you dare even think you can treat me like dirt just because Fang left." I choked slightly, and tried to regain composure. "Angel is _not_ your leader. Angel is a seven-year-old _kid_. You know that I will try as damn hard as I can to get you your sight back. You know how much I have sacrificed for you guys before—and I don't regret it for one second. And you also know that these eyes are a _scam_ to get me to work for him. Chances are you won't even get them."

Iggy stared at me, and I don't thing I had ever seen him direct so much hate, so much anger at_ anyone_ in the flock. And behind all that was something else. There was a glint of a look that told me he knew I had been trying to be firm with him like I used to, but failed. That I didn't have any influence on any of them anymore.

It was worse than any words he could say.

"Goodbye, Jeb." I whispered coldly, and I dragged Iggy back inside, slamming the door behind me.

Dylan was already there, talking quietly to the rest of the flock. They shut up as soon as I walked into the room.

I watched them carefully, making it seem like this didn't bother me, but rather made me curious.

"We cleaned the kitchen, Max." Nudge said, as if desperate to direct the attention to anything else but their little gossip circle.

I nodded in approval.

"What's that, Iggy?' Angel asked innocently.

"You know damn well what it is," I snarled.

Angel ignored me, examining the jar. "So…do you get them? Did Max agree?"

That's when I realized why she was asking all these questions when she clearly knew the answers. She was _taunting _me. _Mocking_ me.

Right then I lost whatever tiny shred of sanity I had left.

I whirled, knocked the jar as hard as I could out of Angel's hands, watching it fall and shatter. Watching the eyes roll around the floor in a puddle of water. Watching them move as if they were glancing around frantically.

"_Forget about the eyes!_" I screamed, my tone of voice making me sound more animal than human.

Dead silence.

Finally, my brain caught up with me. I realized what I had just done.

I looked away.

Angel gave me a long look, a cocky smirk playing on her lips.

I wanted so badly to slap that look right off her face.

"Want us to clean that up, too, Max?" the Gasman asked bitterly.

Dylan shook his head at him disapprovingly. "Lay off, Gaz." His eyes flickered to me, trying to see my reaction. He was only doing that to impress me, I knew. He didn't actually care.

However, I didn't reply. Just closed my eyes, took deep breaths. "I'm sorry." I said flatly.

"Just go back up to your room, Max." Angel said.

I looked at her disgustedly. "You may be able to brainwash everyone else, but not me. I don't take orders from you."

Angel rolled her eyes and laughed.

I turned and slowly walked up the stairs, to my room.

I shut the door. I waited five seconds. And then I finally let the façade down and burst into tears.

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**(A/N): Hm. Not too proud of this. But hey, at least I'm writing again. (:**

**I have one teensy dilema that I'd like your guys' help with. **

**See, I want to obviously put a few chapters about what Fang's doing and whatnot. However, I don't know if I should do this, because I don't want to make my own 'flock' that Fang is the leader of. The reason for this? I really hate OCs. * Of course, no offence to anyone who has them. I've read lots of amazing stories with Ocs in them. * **

**But I don't want to make it seem like I'm putting in self-insertion characters, and I also don't want to end up with what will seem like a Mary Sue. I read on the internet that JP is making a character that Fang falls in love with (in ANGEL), but if I do this it'll seem like i'm making a Mary Sue, whether it's an important detail to JP's actual plot of the seventh book or not.**

**I went down the OC road with Arianna (TSIF and MOM), and that was simply because I needed her for the plot at the time. But I hated using her, because I thought people would think I was purposely making a self-insertion character, and because I felt like it made my story really immature since I was putting Ocs. **

**So, anyway, my question is, what are your guys' opinion on this? Would you like some Fang POV chapters, but he has no flock, Fang POV chapters where he does, or just no Fang POV chapters at all? **

**Let me know in a review, please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N): I didn't realize that when I changed the contents of chapter two, it didn't come up on the home page as an updating-so make sure you read the new chapter two, in case you haven't already. **

**Again, not so happy with this chapter, either, but I think i'll get back into the swing of things as I continue ... Tell me what you think, please! **

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**Chapter Three**

Fang had actually managed to sleep the night before.

Sleep for him now was rare—and even the definition of it was different. _Sleep_ now meant that he managed to finally collapse on the dirty ground of an alleyway for two hours.

Two hours was as long as he had before he started dreaming of Max.

And when he dreamt of Max, the pain in his heart hurt so much it woke him up.

He couldn't remember the last time he had slept on anything relatively close to a bed—or the last time he had actually eaten anything that wasn't out of a dumpster. Soon, he'd have to result to stealing, however much that was against his morals.

He wondered how Max was—probably a lot better than him. Probably not waking up every two hours feeling like someone was cutting her heart out of her chest and stomping on it.

Probably totally forgetting about him, because she had Dylan. Dylan, who belonged with the flock. Dylan, who was "perfect" for Max.

Fang clenched his fists. Max didn't want someone _perfect_.

Did she?

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. He could trust Max, couldn't he? He could no that she still loved him, despite him leaving like this?

No. He didn't deserve to be forgiven by her. As much as he wanted her to, Max wasn't like that.

He sighed loudly. Why couldn't Dylan have just _died_ when he was supposed to?

Fang stood up slowly, his muscles groaning in protest.

He made his way down the sidewalk, trying to act casual, blend in with the crowd. It was raining, so most people were rushing to get away and didn't pay Fang a second glance anyway. He spotted a small coffee shop and ducked inside.

The place wasn't exactly the most charming building in the world, but…

Oh my God.

That girl—

Fang walked over, almost automatically, not really knowing he was doing it.

She had brown hair. Brown eyes.

_She looked like Max._

The girl gave him a questioning look as he approached her, probably looking like he had just seen water after sixty years in a desert or something.

Fang reached out, and then dropped his hand as he finally realized what he was doing.

He didn't know her. She was a stranger. And she couldn't replace Max. He had just thought, for one second, that maybe Max had come after him, even though he had told her not to…

Besides, the only thing the same about Max and this girl was the hair and eyes. But Max's hair had sun streaks in it. Max's hair was parted in the center, not the side. Max's hair was wavier, thicker, shorter…and Max didn't have freckles dotting her face like this girl did.

Swallowing hard, he mumbled, "Sorry. I thought…you were someone I knew." That wasn't it. That didn't do it justice. Not just _someone he knew_. Someone he _loved_. The most important _'someone'_ anyone could ever have.

The girl shook her head, smiling. "Don't worry about it. I'm Taylor, by the way."

"I'm F—Nick." He remembered when Max had called him that by accident, and Iggy had teased him about it. At first, he almost smiled, remembering. But then his chest ached again, and he shut the thought down.

Taylor smiled even wider. That was another thing that made her different from Max, her smile. Taylor smiled with her mouth closed, and two dimples appeared in her cheeks. When Max smiled, her teeth showed. She had no dimples, but her whole face lit up like a firework.

Actually, seeing her smile was _better_ than fireworks.

He would do anything to see that smile again.

"What the heck are you doing at this dump of all places?" Taylor asked, thankfully snapping Fang out of his excruciating nostalgia.

"It's raining." Fang said stupidly, not knowing what else to say.

"Oh," She said quietly.

"Why are you here?"

"My uncle _owns_ this hole in the wall. It's so embarrassing." She said, dropping her voice to a whisper.

Fang smirked and gave a small chuckle.

"But I guess it's not all bad, since the food's pretty good and I get it for free." Taylor winked and walked towards the counter. Then she turned, as if suddenly remembering something. "You want anything?"

Fang's brain, still groggy from sleep—or lack of sleep—came up with the response, "What?"

Taylor repeated herself.

"Oh. No thanks, I'm good." He said awkwardly, again feeling stupid.

Taylor shrugged and went to the other side of the counter, then disappeared into a back room, probably looking for her uncle.

Fang stood up to leave. Suddenly he didn't care about the rain. He just needed something to get his mind off the color brown and its ability to absolutely ruin his day.

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**(A/N): I guess I kind of answered my own question. Well, not really, since I don't plan on Taylor being a main character or anything. But that could change, if you so want it to. (:**

**Review, please? I really need encouragement that people are even still reading this. **

**And that I don't suck. :P**


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